Needing to be Loved
by Hermione-Daae
Summary: After the death of her grandmother, Hermione battles with herself to try and block it all out. She feels like life is hopeless, until she receives an instant message from one potions professor... I OWN NOTHING TO DO WITH HP AND I DON'T KNOW JKR Rated M
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 

"I'll see you both in January," Hermione promised.

"Take care of yourself, Hermione," Harry replied, giving his best girl-friend a big hug before stepping aside for Ron's farewell.

"Just take some time out Hermione," Ron said, "or at least read up on the rules of Quidditch. We'll even give you a test on them when you get back if we have to!"

Hermione laughed. It made her heart feel semi-lighter that some things remained the same. Ron and Harry's obsession with Quidditch being one of them. She had never been radically into the game as they were, and routinely turned up for every game, but to be honest, she found the endless Quidditch talk boring, and both boys knew that.

Giving Ron a huge hug, she kissed both boys on the cheek, and climbed back onto the Hogwarts Express. She was heading back to her home for the Christmas break, not out of choice, but because her mother's mum, Hermione's maternal grandmother, had died earlier that term from a Muggle disease called Multiple Sclerosis, and Hermione felt that she should spend this particularly hard Christmas at home with her parents and the remainder of her family.

She leant out of the window above the door, her bushy brown hair being blown every which way in the winter breeze. Her gloved hand came out and grasped Harry's bare one.

"Please Hermione, take it easy this Christmas. You need a break. Write as much as you can, and remember, use the mirror if you need us." Harry had found the other mirror that partnered the one that his godfather, Sirius Black, had given him in their fifth year. After researching it further, Hermione had been able to not only get the mirrors to work, but also managed to replicate another one, though not as powerful, for Ron. This left each one of them with a mirror to be able to contact either of the other two, which had proved useful not only in finding out where each other was, but also for talking in private, or for helping each other when they were sneaking about Hogwarts' many corridors during the night.

The conductor's whistle blew on the Hogsmeade platform, and Hermione withdrew her hand from Harry's grasp before she could reply to him. She waved as enthusiastically as she could, while watching her two best friends get smaller and smaller as the train pulled out the station. Once the train's steam and the distance got too much, she pulled back from the window and went in search of an empty compartment to spend the journey back to King's Cross. Contrary to Harry's last words, Hermione had no wish to spend her Christmas break wasting away in the presence of her family. Much as she knew she should feel grief for her grandmother, Hermione had yet to feel even the slightest bit of acceptance to the news, and she wanted to keep it that way. Her way of coping with things was to block them out of her life until it was convenient to deal with them. The death of her beloved grandmother, was certainly not something Hermione wanted to deal with, so to keep herself from thinking about it, she found herself working herself ten times harder, and for twice as long as normal. This improved her work, that she and everyone else knew and recognised, however, her health had deteriorated, in a way that even the boys had noticed that she had become thinner.

Finding no compartments in the train empty, she carried her small weekend bag to the last compartment in the carriage. Looking inside, she saw her Potions Master, fast asleep already. His black hair partially covering his pale face, his head resting on the cold window, he looked much less intimidating than he usually managed to look in classes. Deciding to chance his sarcasm should he wake up, rather than having to suffer the endless gossip and false smiles from the other compartments, Hermione slipped as quietly as she could into a seat opposite Professor Snape, putting her bag on the overhead storage rack, and withdrawing a new book on Animagi, a topic that Professor McGonnagol had been hinting that they would cover after their end of year exams as a reward for the excellent results she was hoping to receive. Hermione pulled her cloak and scarf in closer to her cold little body, and curled up on the seats to read the small print of the 1500 page book.

Three hours into the journey, the trolley lady knocked on the compartment door, as a signal for Hermione and Snape to get some lunch. Hermione was so absorbed in the text that she didn't hear the knock, and Snape was still deeply asleep. It was only after three successive knocks had been administered by the exasperated trolley lady, and the door flung open that Hermione looked up, a little dazed with her eyes out of focus having been trained on the small print for so long without a break

"DO I HAVE TO STAND HERE KNOCKING ALL BLOODY DAY FOR YOU INCONSIDERATE CHILD?" demanded the trolley lady, completely forgetting the previously sleeping professor in the corner.

Hermione recoiled at her harsh words, but Snape jumped up, withdrew his wand, aimed it at the trolley lady and had his eyes wide open all in one movement, before recognition dawned and he turned to Hermione.

"Why did you not answer here call on the first knock?" he asked, his deep sneering voice digging into Hermione's heart as she sat, horrified at his actions, and wondering what he was going to do next. "Or does someone of your academic prowess not deem herself worthy of acknowledging those who run around after her sorry arse all day long?"

Hermione held back the tears that threatened to well up and answered quietly, "I didn't hear the knocking Professor. I'm deeply sorry but I was absorbed in my book. It won't happen again." She lowered her head and Snape's previous sneer softened. Although many thought him heartless, in truth he was far from it. He had been watching the young woman over the past couple of months since her grandmother's death, and seen how thin she had become, avoiding meals, and studying late into the night, often falling asleep in the library over extensive notes and thick volumes that she really needn't be searching through. He had watched her withdrawing from conversations, and keeping from answering questions in class, seen that the dark circles under her eyes had grown more pronounced over recent weeks, and that she seemed to always be bottling up things… she never smiled like she had done, never laughed, never let her eyes blaze with anger at some prank that Potter and Weasley had played on her or one of those unfortunate dunderheads she called her classmates. It seemed as if all her former passion had diminished into a cold, fragile exterior, that could so easily be fractured into thousands of pieces should she lose control for just one second. Though he would never admit it to anyone, Snape had a deep fondness for the girl, not just for the beauty that she had developed over her years, that had recently faded slightly, but for her mind; that wondrous maze of thoughts that she just kept adding to. Her thirst for knowledge was one he recognised all too easily in himself, and her skills in all classes, especially Potions, was something he found amazing in a student who was not only a Muggleborn, but also a Gryffindor.

"Excuse me, but are either of you going to buy something from me today?" The poor trolley lady was nearing the very end of her patience, and Snape tore his gaze away from Hermione, to wander over the treats that filled (or rather, half-filled) trolley. Picking up a couple of pumpkin pasties, he returned to his seat. Hermione got up slowly and picked up a cauldron cake, paid the trolley lady who snatched the money out of Hermione's hand and pushed the trolley further down before Hermione had had a chance to return to her seat.

Picking up her book, Hermione quickly found her place and continued reading, trying to block out the man opposite. Snape ate his pasties in solemn silence, contemplating the young woman before him. She thought, he realised, that he thought that she was just a Little-Miss-Know-It-All, and so instead of trying to make conversation, and thus making her more uncomfortable, he instead began to think of what he could possibly do to help Miss Granger. He recognised the route she was going down, the route he too had followed after the death of his mother. He knew where that road led: depression.

Even though the Dark Lord had been defeated last summer, in her sixth year, there were still Death Eaters that roamed free, including Lucius Malfoy. He sincerely hoped that he could begin to fix her mind, before they broke into it and they lost her forever. Dumbledore had told him to not be so dramatic, with no leader, he had said that the Death Eaters could not possible organise themselves, and they were no threat, just a nuisance, until they could be finally rounded up. Snape knew better. He knew the lure of the Dark Arts, he remembered how he had been seduced by their powers, and how they had promised him the chance to see his mother again. That's how he was led, like a young fool, to becoming a Death Eater, promised great power, by eliminating all those who had opposed it. He knew how easily he had been led, and he didn't want to see such a promising young woman falling into the same traps that he had.

As he thought that, Snape glanced down to Hermione's seat. Her cauldron cake sat there, untouched, and probably forgotten. He checked his watch. It had been an hour since the trolley had past them, and he had long since finished his pasty. _This is clearly more serious than I had imagined,_ he thought. He sighed, and then he had an idea. Staring out of the window, he allowed this plan to form in his mind, as they travelled onwards, through the frozen hills, to the busy city of London, and finally, some thread of hope for Hermione.


	2. Chapter 2

Flicking over page 534, Hermione continued to read as the train pulled into Platform 9 ¾, completely oblivious, as she had been throughout the entire journey, to any activity in the rest of the train, or outside of it. Snape looked up from his Potions Journal as the regular motion of the train began to slow, and saw that they were now passing through the outskirts of London.

"Miss Granger," her head snapped up, thinking he was going to tell her off, " we have arrived. Now unless you'd rather head back to Hogwarts I suggest you gather your things and leave." And with that, he swept out of the compartment and disappeared from Hermione's sight.

She checked her watch and made to look out of the window, only to find that she had obviously sat in the same position for too long, and all her muscles ached and protested against the movement. She knocked the cauldron cake off the seat as she swung her legs round and sat up. Bending down to pick it up, her stomach growled. Unwrapping the cake, she ate bits of it as she packed the book back into her bag and went out into the corridor, and made for an exit.

"Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself as the train came to a standstill alongside a fairly busy platform. Opening the door, she stepped out, amongst the flock of students returning home for the Christmas break. Not as many as there had been in the years that Voldemort had been in power, everyone wanted to see their families as much as possible during those times, just in case it was the last time; but now, it was just those who missed the comfort of their family, or who just wanted to escape the wrath of the Hogwarts' Staff for a couple of weeks and return to a life that wasn't full of trick staircases and where the food wasn't going to disappear before you'd finished eating.

Making her way through the small groups of families reuniting after the fourteen weeks apart, Hermione made her way to the barrier that would give her access back to the Muggle world. Just before she left the platform, she thought she felt someone watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled slightly and she turned. Looking around, her eyes fund those of Severus Snape. She held his gaze for a few seconds, allowing the black, cold eyes to see her brown ones, before turning away from the only man she ever felt she could trust, and walking through the brick wall.

Contrary to the persona she gave out, Professor Snape was actually her favourite professor in the whole of Hogwarts. Of course, she did adore her Head of House Minerva McGonnagol, and as everyone did, she loved Professor Albus Dumbledore, but she was drawn to Snape like a moth is attracted to light. She knew many things about him from what others had said. She, as did Harry and Ron, knew how much he had put at stake by joining the Order, and all his work as a spy had helped them to win the war, with very few casualties. And yet, he never seemed to get a word of thanks, or have praise delivered as others had been given. She often puzzled over him, he had withdrawn from society even more after Voldemort's fall, and she couldn't guess why that would be. Surely without the pressure of being two separate people at once, he would have smiled a bit more, become more human than he had previously been? But no, he had become if possible more bad tempered, attended even fewer school events than he had before, and his scowl was the most common look on his face these days, even more common than the smirk he had when he caught students out of bed at night or in some other mischief. Hermione sympathised with him, and wanted to reach out to him a bit, but knew that while she was a student, she could never act on the slight crush she had on him, couldn't make his life a bit better as she hoped that she one day could by becoming his friend, or just by assisting him in whichever way she could. Her greatest aspiration was to become a Potions mistress, and to possibly teach Potions should Snape ever leave his post; but she never thought she'd really be good enough. He rarely praised her, and though her work was as close to perfection as she could make it, it still never seemed good enough by his standards. She sighed. It was another of those dreams that she could never realise, like the one where she could tell him how she felt.

Coming out of her thoughts, Hermione looked up in search of her father. There he was, standing tall above most of the other passengers racing past to catch their trains. Snapping out of her usual emotionless state, Hermione fixed the biggest smile that she could muster on her face, and ran to give her father a hug.

"Hey Munchkin, how goes it?" Hermione pulled away from her father, and looked into his brown eyes that sparkled with life, and saw that there were definitely more grey hairs than there had been when she had last seen him at the funeral at the beginning of October. The stress of living with a grieving daughter was obviously taking their toll on him, Hermione thought.

"Same old, same old," Hermione said, her voice as light-hearted as she could make it. The mask she wore clearly worked, because her father gave her a wide smile, exposing his straight, white teeth and dimpling his cheeks.

He took his daughter's little hand and led her out of the busy station and to their family car, talking about how his and her mother's dental practice was doing, and how they had recently expanded, giving her more details than he had in his recent letters. Hermione listened with feigned interest, while she kept up the appearance of being the healthy happy child that her parents knew and loved. It was draining, but she knew she had to keep up pretences, and not let them see the wreck she had become inside. The endless chat from her father really didn't interest her, and Hermione felt bored by the dental talk after only ten seconds worth. She shook herself firmly. She had always been interested in her father and mother's work, what had changed?

Getting into the car, there was a few moments of silence while Hermione's father sorted out her bags and started up the car. "Off we go then Munchkin, back to Muggle normality hrmm?"

God that nickname was getting to her. "Yeah Dad, guess so." And she smiled. It was an age old routine that they had established way back when she first returned home for the Christmas break in her first year, and it had been the same no matter which holiday it was that she came back for. "No magic for me for two weeks, however will I cope?"

Mr Granger laughed his merry laugh and his eyes lit up as the radio finally kicked in, and the chart show started up. Pulling out of the car park, Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. What on Earth was she doing? She used to be so happy around her father, had he really changed that much that she no longer was?

Half an hour into the journey, Mr Granger stopped talking about the dentist work (Finally, Hermione sighed with relief), and began to hum along to whichever tunes happened to be on the radio at the time. This was again something they both used to enjoy doing, but now it only frustrated Hermione. Her father was out of tune, out of key, and it was really annoying her. She kept quiet though, and became lost in her thoughts as she watched the scenery outside the window flash past.

After what Hermione had to admit was the worst journey she had ever taken with her father, they reached the Granger house. Getting out, Hermione looked up at the small house with its neatly kept front garden, and the windows shut to keep in the heat. She saw the net curtains shift as her mother left the spot she had undoubtedly kept watch from at the window. Hermione sighed, she used to love being here, now she just resented it, and she wasn't sure why. It confused her, and scared her. What had changed?

"Hermione, sweetheart, it's so nice to have you home." Hermione's mother ran towards her daughter down the small path to the road that Hermione now stood on.

"It's great to see you too, Mum," Hermione said without any feeling as she hugged the grey frizzy haired woman. She felt her shoulder becoming damp, and realised that her mum was crying softly. Sighing, Hermione held the older woman and tried to comfort her as best she could, while a glance from her dad told her that he thought this might happen, and he carried her bag inside for her.

"Sorry sweetheart," her mum sniffed pulling away, "I've just missed you so much, and everything's just getting me down at the moment. You'll have to excuse me," and she moped her eyes with the sleeve of her top.

"I understand, mum, and it's ok." She followed her mother back into the house that they had lived in since Hermione was small, and Hermione realised with a jolt, that the only thing in her world that had changed was her, and she felt so uncomfortable around her family because she no longer felt that tight bond that they had always had.

I don't love them any more, Hermione realised, and stopped dead in her tracks.


End file.
